The Willful Slaughter of Hope
by NoCleverSig
Summary: Tesla discover a secret Magnus has hidden, a secret that sheds a new, disturbing light on Helen's relationship with John Druitt.  Tesla/Magnus/Druitt
1. Chapter 1: Willful

**The Willful Slaughter of Hope  
><strong>(Copyright 2011, NoCleverSig)

**Author's Note:** _Inspired by my love of John and Helen, what drew me to Sanctuary in the first place, and their tragic, dysfunctional relationship. Takes place in Season 4 sometime after Episode 2. The title and the subsequent quote by Tesla are from Steven Dietz, American playwright. Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks as always to the world's best beta, MajorSam. Peace. NCS_

**Chapter 1:**

"Impossible…" Nikola Tesla mumbled, staring slack-jawed at the image of Helen Magnus on the computer screen. The video log he'd stumbled upon... fine, hacked into… had left the vampire speechless, an uncommon occurrence. Tesla leaned back in the swivel desk chair, his left arm bracing his right, and held his fist in his chin, pondering, his eyes riveted to the screen.

He'd known Dr. Helen Magnus longer than any other living being except perhaps for John Druitt. Did he really think her capable of doing what her log implied? Or, as the case may be, _not doing_?

He stood up; slipping his hands into his pockets and pacing the lab Helen had assembled for him to salvage what was left of Praxian technology. A small personal note in one of her research logs had caught Tesla's eye and sent him down an interesting path, a path which he'd followed like the scent of human blood. It'd taken time to hack into Magnus' personal journals, but he'd eventually succeeded. Most of it was as boring as her public logs. The woman had no life outside her work yet was relentless in documenting it. But this…this was something extraordinary.

It wasn't explicit enough to confront or convict her, but it was...curious. Some might call it a potential "smoking gun." He needed proof though; he thought absently running his hands through his hair. If he could find the formulas she used, her thesis, her research notes…

Tesla turned back toward the computer, sat down, and began to dig.

* * *

><p>John Druitt lay in a pool of his own sweat and urine, bottles of rice wine and empty needles scattered on the floor beside him. The hot, Indonesian sun beat down on the jungle hut, exacerbating the stillness in the air and driving the humidity to new heights, so much so he could barely breathe.<p>

He didn't want to. Breathe, that is. Dying had always been preferable, with the exception of one or two episodes of rare lucidity. But the energy creature inside him was nothing if not a master of self-preservation, and therefore suicide had been impossible. So Druitt had spent his days following the explosion of Hollow Earth, which he'd narrowly escaped, and the disappearance of Adam Worth and Helen into God knows where as he had spent so many others, drowning the din of his reinvigorated rage, the creature's rage, in a potent cocktail of alcohol and drugs.

He'd only wanted to make things right, he thought hazily, his mind swimming with images. Go back before they'd ingested the cursed source blood, before he'd become infested with evil. For so long his heart had been full of anger and hate, while Helen's heart was hardened by it. Was it so wrong to want what they had once had? To recapture their lost love? To finally attain the life they had planned? A career, a home, children? Helen by his side and in his bed, truly, finally, his?

His cracked lips curved upward in an awkward smile. _All debts paid in full,_ he thought. That's what he'd intended. No Ripper, no bloodshed, no darkness, no evil to harden their hearts. Only light and love and…Helen.

She'd berated him for it. Accused his motives of being impure, of not loving the woman she was now, of only wanting to bed the woman she once was, swearing she'd never wanted to see him again when his current task for her was through.

The beast inside him howled at the memory of her words, spat at him in anger. Not loving her? The bloody little whore! What did he have to do to prove himself to the woman? Split his veins so she could watch him bleed out and lick him clean when it was done? Would that demonstrate his devotion?

He wished he could. He'd have done it ages ago if that's all it took. But the creature inside him wouldn't allow it. So he lay on the mat instead, slipping back into unconsciousness, wondering if she still lived, and if she did, could she ever forgive him.

* * *

><p>"John?"<p>

Druitt's eyes fluttered. He was dreaming. Someone was calling his name. It was a voice he recognized, someone from his past. Someone he disliked, he thought vaguely with a slight wrinkle of his nose.

"C'mon, Johnny boy. Wakey, wakey. I have a surprise for you, and you're not going to want to miss it."

Druitt felt a prick against his skin, the splash of cold water on his face. He shook his head and swore, leaping up from the floor only to crash back down again, his body too weak, his head spinning. He opened his eyes and saw the toothy grin of Nikola Tesla staring down at him, needle in hand.

"Nikola? How..."

"Did I find you?" Tesla snorted. "I'm a vampire, Johnny. It tends to give one an edge in persuading people to share information. Besides, your choice of accommodations is miserably predictable," he said, sniffing the rancid air and making a face. "Always some sweat-filled hovel in a heavily opiate-driven economy. Really, John, if you want to hide, try the Ritz Carlton next time. I'd never suspect that," Nikola grinned.

"What…."

"Do I want from you?" the vampire looked down and smiled at Druitt, almost but not quite kindly. "That's the great part," he said, wrapping a cuff around Druitt's upper arm, slipping on a stethoscope and pumping, checking John's blood pressure. "Nothing," he leaned in whispering in John's ear. "Just the joy of seeing you well again, old friend, and the look on Helen Magnus' face when I do it."

Druitt started at that. "Helen? She's alive?"

"Shh…shh…don't get too excited," Tesla scolded him, removing the cuff and checking his pulse. "She's fine," Nikola added, as he finished. "Got an amazing story to tell. You're not going to believe it, trust me."

"And Worth?"

"Dead. Finally, the little bastard."

John breathed a sigh of relief at that.

"You see, I'm actually here to help you, John."

For the first time in months Druitt laughed.

"No, I'm completely serious," Tesla responded, acting offended.

"How could you possibly help me?" Druitt mumbled, the nausea setting in.

Tesla leaned over, his warm breath on Druitt's cheek.

"'And the angel of the lord said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people'…or in this case…to John Druitt."

Druitt squinted. "What in bloody hell are you going on about?" he mumbled. He was so tired.

"Redemption, John. Pure and simple. I know how to cure you, and I'm going to do it."

Druitt stared at him in disbelief.

"Welcome back to your life, Johnny."

* * *

><p>Unreliable, irresponsible, egomaniacal bastard!<p>

These and a few other choice words coursed through Helen Magnus' mind as she pounded her frustration out on her keyboard, typing her latest report. She'd given Nikola Tesla free reign of the lab. Access to all, well, almost all, she inwardly corrected herself, of the Sanctuary's systems and databases. He'd promised to document and repair as much of the Praxian technology as he could so that they could salvage something from the destruction of the city. And now? He was gone. Vanished. No explanation. No goodbye. Her lab left in disarray, as though he had dropped everything to run off and do…God knows what.

If it hadn't had been Tesla, she might have thought the man kidnapped. But he was a bloody vampire, for God's sake! The possibility of foul play, at the Sanctuary no less, was…. Well, it was quite impossible. No, he'd left of his own accord with not a word to the wiser, having no doubt acquired some hair-brained notion that involved world domination inspired by the work he'd been conducting.. It was never far from the man's mind.

She was a fool to have let him near the Praxian technology. Every time she thought she could trust him he ended up disappointing.

The knock at her office door interrupted her mental tirade. She mumbled a terse, "Come in," confident that it was Will, who was late. Again.

"Miss me?"

Nikola Tesla waltzed confidently through the door with his boyish grin and neatly pressed grey suit.

"Unbelievable," Magnus managed, her eyes widening, rising in her chair so fast she knocked it backwards and onto the floor. "Where the hell have you been, Nikola?"

He cocked his head and grinned. "Ah, you DID miss me!"

The glare in Magnus' eyes indicated otherwise.

"You've been gone for nearly three weeks. Three weeks!" she said, voice raised, hand hovering in pointed gesticulation. "Absolutely no word! What kind of rubbish are you playing at? Where the hell have you…."

Druitt followed through the door behind him, and they both turned.

"I brought you a present," Tesla grinned, extending his arm at the taller man.

Magnus looked up to see John Druitt, jeans, white shirt, boots, a short growth of dark brown hair, and bright blue eyes staring back at her. Instinctively she stepped back.

"John!"

He smiled a familiar smile at her, one that made her stomach knot in recognition. He looked…well?

"Hello, Helen," he said meekly, his deep, chocolate voice calm, peaceful even. "I'm so happy to see you well."

Something was off about him. For one thing, he was alive. A fact she hadn't considered after the explosion of Hollow Earth. And for another, he was…

"I am myself," he said quietly, tears filling his eyes. "It's _me_, Helen!"

Magnus stared at him, taking in his voice, his expression, his demeanor, even the way he stood. It was all…different, yet somehow achingly familiar. It was as though…

"Dear God, the energy creature! It's gone, isn't it?"

Druitt's lips creased into a full smile then nodded. "I'm free!" he said holding the palms of his hands up in a gesture of submission.

Helen's eyes darted to Tesla. "You did this?"

"Amazing, aren't I? But I can't take all the credit," he said, folding his hands behind his back and strolling through Magnus' office, pretending to peruse her bookshelves. "I had a little help…."

He let the sentence lie there, waited a beat, and then cast a surreptitious glance back toward Helen. Her eyes flashed and the muscles in her face tensed, just for a moment, but it was enough. He turned back to the shelves and grinned.

"I know you said that you didn't want to see me again, Helen, but that was…before, and I thought, perhaps…"

"Ok, now this is getting personal," Tesla interrupted. "Perhaps I should leave and let you two work out your issues. I'll come back in say, oh, 2050?"

"Not yet, Nikola," Helen commanded, her voice clipped. She turned to Druitt. "I'll get my manservant to prepare you a room, John. I need to speak to Nikola for a few moments, alone, take care of a few loose ends he left. Why don't you relax in the study? I'll come find you in a little while and then we'll…talk."

Druitt searched her eyes, trying to find some evidence of what she was thinking, how she was feeling. He discovered none. Would she even give him a chance now that Nikola had cured him, or would she simply ask him to leave her be as she'd promised? Was he past the point of redemption? Had he always been?

"As you wish," he said, forcing a nervous smile, nodded at Nikola, and left.

Helen returned to her desk, standing behind it, her hands resting on the hard surface. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She needed to steady herself.

"How did you do it, Nikola? How did you cure John?"

Nikola was thumbing through the pages of a book, his eyes in mock absorption. When Helen spoke he turned and looked at her from across the room, tucked the book under his arm, and walked toward her. His playful grin vanished.

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that question, Helen."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nikola" she started, but her voice wavered.

He walked up to her desk and slammed the book down, causing her to jump.

"Don't patronize me, Helen. It's beneath you."

Her eyes flashed in anger, her nostrils flared, but she didn't say a word.

"I cured John Druitt because you showed me how! I found your notes, Helen. All of them."

"You hacked into my personal files!" she shouted.

"I stumbled upon a note you made in a public file that made me wonder…And when I traced it to its logical conclusion I found the most remarkable thing. You'd figured out how to expel the energy creature from Druitt, safely I might add, months ago, Helen. MONTHS AGO! You even tested your theory and PROVED it would work. Yet you did nothing."

"I was sure he was dead!"

"And when he wasn't?" Nikola flung at her accusingly. "When you found him in Cambodia and brought him back here to help you deal with Worth? Locate a way into Praxis? What?" he said, opening his arms wide and grinning. "It slipped your mind?"

"I had more important things to deal with at that moment," she said through gritted teeth, fists clenched.

Tesla walked up to her and leaned over her desk, his face inches from hers. "Really? Was that it, Helen? Or has John been right all along? You needed him to help get you into Praxis and deal with Adam Worth."

"I…" she started, but Tesla raised a hand to silence her, shaking his head.

"Dr. Helen Magnus," Tesla continued. "Protector of Abnormals, offering Sanctuary to all…except one."

A shiver shot through Helen's spine. "I had my reasons."

Tesla nodded and started to leave. "Oh, I'm sure you did…."

Helen moved quickly around the table, her hand grabbing his arm.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, breathlessly.

Nikola glanced down at her hand wrapped tight around his forearm. It was rare to see her so desperate. "Do you mean am I going to tell John that the love of his life had the tools and information to make him whole again but for reasons unfathomable chose not to?"

She blinked.

"I honestly don't know yet. But it would make for an exciting scene, wouldn't it? To watch John's face when he found out what his 'beloved' had done? There's no deceit in death, Helen. It delivers precisely what it has promised. But betrayal? That's the willful slaughter of hope."

He shook off her arm and walked to the door, turning one more time before he left.

"Who do you think is more evil, Helen? The murderer? Or the person who purposefully lets him kill?"

Tesla walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Helen shut her eyes, letting the shaking begin.

_(to be continued)_


	2. Chapter 2: Slaughter Act 1

**The Willful Slaughter of Hope  
><strong>(Copyright 2011, NoCleverSig)

**Chapter 2**

John Druitt's back was turned, but he knew it was Helen Magnus who had opened the study door. The cadence of her footfalls, the swish of her skirt against her hips, and the scent of her perfume announced her presence without a single word.

While he'd been possessed by the energy creature, his senses had been equally keen, fine tuned to the art of hunting. But this? This was different. No longer was it the blood coursing through her veins that pounded in his head or the smell of her sweat that filled his nostrils. Now there was simply the scent of Chanel sprayed on Helen's wrists, dabbed behind her ears, and trailed down her cleavage with a single finger that left him feeling heady with familiarity and need.

He waited to turn around, for her to speak first. He wanted so badly to hear her say his name. He was unsure how much time he had left with her, how long she would allow him to stay if at all.

"John?"

He closed his eyes and smiled. Even the sound of her voice as she called to him sounded different, more beautiful somehow now that he was free. He turned to face her, to really look at her for the first time since he'd arrived here, clean. When he did, he felt like a blind man who could suddenly see.

She was wearing a simple suit, navy blue skirt and jacket, with dark blue heels that brought her closer to his height. Her hair was partially pulled back in a silver clip. Small silver earrings dangled from her earlobes. Her eyes were blue. The same as the April sky on a spring picnic they'd shared long ago when he'd told her, and showed her, how much he loved her.

He wanted to sob with joy, seeing her this way, his senses unfiltered through a demon's soul. Instead, he simply smiled in greeting.

"Have you sorted Nikola out?" he asked his voice surprisingly steady. "You know, for once I actually hope you weren't too hard on the poor chap. He did save my life after all."

Helen looked down, a pained expression on her face, but it flickered over her features only briefly.

"He expects me to be hard on him. In fact, I believe he lives for it," she smiled, recovering.

John laughed. "Indeed. He did always bring it upon himself it seemed."

They fell silent for a moment, neither knowing where to start.

"Nikola told me what happened," John finally said. "With Adam, with you…." he drifted off. "Helen, 113 years? Alone? My God…."

She glanced away and crossed her arms, still silent. He walked toward her wanting so badly to hold her in his arms and comfort her, but it was both too soon and too late for that kind of intimacy between them.

"All of this was my fault, Helen; Worth, Praxis, your seclusion….You were right. I could have prevented it all. If I had only killed Adam when I had had the chance in Hollow Earth, when you expected me to…"

She held up her hand and shook her head. "We've all," she hesitated, "made mistakes, John. Many, many mistakes. No single one of us is to blame."

"Yes, but…"

"Please," she insisted. "If there's one thing I learned in my time alone, it's that life is full of regrets. All one can really do is learn from them and move forward."

John swallowed. "Does this mean we may 'move forward' as well?"

She stared at him for a moment, thinking. "I…I don't know."

He nodded. "I understand, but just so you know I seek only your friendship, Helen. Nothing more. If I could gain but that," he held the palm of his hands up and shrugged. "I would feel, at least in part, redeemed."

She looked at him and sighed. "We'll see, John. For now, I think you should remain here. I'd like to run some tests on you to ensure…"

"That Nikola got it right?" he laughed.

She smiled in return. "Something like that. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

"Good. I'll have my manservant show you to your room. Rest for the day. We'll get started in the morning." She smiled again at him, the same clinical smile of reassurance she had given hundreds, if not thousands of her patients.

He didn't realize, until she had gone, how much it hurt to have that smile directed at him.

* * *

><p>"There's absolutely no trace of the energy signature within John," Magnus announced, flipping through the latest test results she held in hand, her white lab coat on, her dark hair pulled back in a pony tail.<p>

"The energy creature is gone, as I've been saying for days," Tesla replied. His arms were crossed, his sleeves were rolled up, and he was frowning. "Your research was very thorough, Helen, as was your testing. I perfected a few of your procedures, of course" he said pointedly, raising a hand in the air for emphasis. "But essentially you figured it out. Brava, my dear. Well done."

Helen didn't flinch at the backhanded compliment. They were in what had become Tesla's lab, his work on what was left of the Praxian technology making slow progress. In all the testing and retesting Magnus had performed on John over the past 10 days, Tesla hadn't once mentioned the fact that he'd gotten the knowledge of how to cure Druitt from Magnus' own files. He'd left that tidbit curiously untouched since the day he'd arrived with John in Helen's office and flung it in her face.

"And the creature itself? Knowing you, you found a way to keep it alive and contained. Am I right?" Magnus asked.

The vampire rolled his eyes. "As I've said for the trillionth time, Helen, it's dead, deceased, obliterated, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, did your hearing worsen with the extra century you gained? I'm curious."

Magnus snorted, refusing to take the bait. "My hearing is perfectly fine, Nikola. However, my ability to detect bullshit has been exponentially refined through the years."

"Helen!" Tesla gasped in an exaggeratedly wounded voice. "Such language!"

"So you don't deny the accusation, just the wording of it?" she bantered back playfully. They had fallen into their old routine, a routine she felt comfortable with. One that distracted her from the darker discussion she knew was looming. Nikola had taken his time in getting back to it, but she knew it was coming. Inevitably, his curiosity would get the best of him.

"So," he said leaning back casually against the table behind him as Helen did one last check through John's charts. "Are you going to tell me why?"

There it was. Like clockwork.

"Why what?" she asked absently, avoiding his eyes, knowing perfectly well what he wanted.

She sensed rather than saw him roll his eyes. "Fine. You want me to say it? I will. Tell me why you discovered how to cure John of his energy demon over a year ago yet waited. No," he paused. "You didn't wait. You just didn't do it at all. The doctor had a cure for her patient yet withheld it from him. Helen," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's unlike you, and vaguely in violation of your Hippocratic Oath, isn't it?"

She grew angry at that. Teasing her was one thing, but questioning her ethics? That crossed a line.

"You, of all people, playing the moralist? It doesn't suit you, Nikola," Magnus scoffed.

He smiled. "Struck a nerve did I?"

"Why are you so bloody interested in my reasons? Hmm?" she shot back, slamming the chart down on the table next to her, her voice inching up a notch.

Tesla strode over to her, his hands clasped behind his back. "Because I've known you and Johnny a very long time. And If I had been asked to wager, I would have bet _everything_ that Helen Magnus would have gone to the ends of the earth to save her beloved John Druitt if she had the means. But that didn't happen. So now, I'm puzzled, perplexed even. How could I, of all people, misjudge you so? I have to know."

"I thought he was dead," she said evenly.

"You've said that. But he turned up very much alive in Cambodia. Almost comatose in his efforts to keep the creature at bay, but that's neither here nor there…" he said, waving his hand. "Point is he was in your Sanctuary, in your infirmary, for days…weeks. You could have cured him long before we set out to find Hollow Earth, yet you didn't. I'm not judging you, Helen, I'm only curious about your motivations."

"I was dying, if you'll recall. Rather had my hands full."

"True, true," he responded pacing the lab floor. "But I've never really known you to put yourself before others. Me?" He shrugged. "I'd do it in a heartbeat. But you? No. This case was special." He paused, shook his head, and then laughed, a full, rolling, belly laugh.

She started. "What?"

He folded his arms in front of himself and walked up to her until they were face to face, his eyes alight with discovery

"I've been approaching this all wrong! Here I was searching for some sort of logical explanation for your actions. I thought perhaps you wanted to use John, as he so often accused you, to do your dirty work for you, to track and kill Worth, be your personal hit man. But that doesn't make any sense. You've never shied away from a fight, not if you had to. No," he said, moving off, pacing the lab again. "You went to all the trouble to figure out how to save John, but when the opportunity arose, you didn't do it. You withheld the one thing he desired the most."

"Get to the point, Nikola!" she nearly shouted, her hands clenched on the table behind her. Truth be told, she was unsure herself why she had done what she'd done.

"Vengeance. Pure and simple," he answered quietly. "You wanted to hurt him like he had hurt you…over and over and over again…for more than a century. You wanted to watch him suffer knowing that you could ease his pain at anytime," he said gesturing with his hands. He stopped and folded his arms, smiling. "Finally, you were the one in control of the situation, not him, and you wanted, well...payback." He waited a blink for her to respond. When she didn't, he prodded. "Am I right? Tell me, would Sigmund be proud or what?"

Helen swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She turned and clung to the table, her vision blurring with building tears.

"Helen?" she heard Nikola ask in a concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

Whatever vestige of control she'd been holding onto gave way. The tears burst forth in great, wracking sobs. Her entire body shook from the force of it. She could barely breathe, barely hear, couldn't speak. Nikola looked on in sheer terror. Twice now she'd thrown him with actions completely uncharacteristic of herself. She was becoming…unpredictable, and that was a concern in and of itself. He'd always liked Helen, been attracted to her, in part, because she was so logical, like him. But this…sobbing…defied all logic. He did the only thing he could think of to do. He patted her on the back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"There, there," he said uneasily. "It's all right. John's…fine," he said, assuming this was that cause of her distress.

She actually laughed through her tears, a strange combination of sounds that confused Tesla even more. Magnus turned to look at him, still gently patting her shoulder, occasionally stroking her hair, and wiped her face with her sleeve. "That's not what I'm upset about, Nikola,' she finally muttered.

He gave her a puzzled look. "Then why are you crying?"

She wiped her face again and looked up at her old friend. "Because you're right. I wanted to hurt John…badly," she said, her body still shaking. "What does that make me?" she asked quietly. Tesla wasn't sure she was asking him or herself, but he chose to respond anyway. "Human," he answered after a beat, then pulled her into his arms and held her.

* * *

><p>They were making progress, Druitt thought as he walked down the hallway to Tesla's lab. He couldn't stand being idle, so he'd persuaded Helen to let him assist with some of the more menial chores of the Sanctuary. He mostly helped Kate, who Druitt was growing fonder of by the day, and Henry, who he still intimidated it seemed. He hoped, once Helen was sure of his good health, that she might let him do more. If she invited him to stay that is.<p>

He hoped she would, partly because he had nowhere else to go, but also because in the two weeks since he'd arrived, they had grown closer. The three of them, Helen, Nikola, and he, had spent a somewhat wine-laden evening recently reminiscing about happier times. She'd smiled and laughed for hours, and his heart had soared at the sound of it. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps they were no longer meant to be lovers. Maybe that time for them had passed. But he'd been sincere when he'd told her he hoped they could be friends. If that was all she could give him, he would understand and accept it, cherishing it for the gift that it was.

He rounded the corner when he heard Helen and Nikola talking, louder than usual, Nikola was in full lecture mode going on about "...approaching this all wrong…"

That's when he stopped, listened, and heard the rest.

She'd known how to save him. She'd known for _months_ but hadn't tried. She'd assumed he was dead and hadn't attempted to find him. And when she did find him, she hadn't said a word. Done nothing. All that time he had been concerned for _her _health, for _her _life, for _her_ safety, but she'd shown no such concern for him. She'd only wanted…what had Tesla said?

Vengeance.

Payback.

The blood rushed to his ears, and his body trembled from an emotion he'd never experienced with Helen Magnus before…_disappointment_. Dreadful, terrible disappointment, so much so it hurt. He turned and walked briskly down the hallway, needing to get away from her as fast as he could, searching for somewhere he could be alone to think. He turned a corner and went down a dimly lit passageway leading into the lower levels of the Sanctuary. When he was sure he was out of sight and earshot, Druitt fell back against the wall.

_She knew how to save him but she hadn't. She knew how to end his suffering but she didn't._

The reality of it hit him like a train, and he fell to his knees from the weight of it, fighting back the sudden urge to be sick.

His Helen? How could it be? How could she withhold such a thing from him? He hadn't asked for this life, for the creature to possess him. In fact he'd done everything in his power to protect those around him from its rage. He hadn't even wanted to do the damnable experiment with the source blood in the first place. It had been her idea! It had been her idea all along, and he had gone along with it because…

He loved her.

John sunk down to the cold, stone floor, his long, jean-clad legs outstretched before him. Tears he hadn't realized he'd been shedding slid down his cheeks. He'd been made a fool, played by Helen Magnus from the beginning.

The reality of it broke his heart.

Vengeance, was it? Payback? Suffering? He knew a thing or two about those. If the creature inside him had done anything, it had taught him how to artfully inflict pain. And he, John Druitt, not Jack the Ripper, would give Helen Magnus a sterling lesson in it.

_To be continued_


	3. Chapter 3: Slaughter Act 2

**NOTE: This chapter is ADULT! Explicit sex and some violence within.**

**Chapter 3**

The rapping on Helen Magnus' door was faint but audible over the clicking of her nails across the computer keyboard.

"Come," she called, not missing a key, her attention focused on documenting the progress Tesla was making on the Praxian technology and reporting it back to the Sanctuary heads of households. Every discovery, every revelation might help with the damage that had been done.

"I thought you might like something to eat."

Magnus looked up, no longer surprised at hearing the deep, familiar voice. In the past the most likely visitors to her office at this hour would have been Biggie or Will. Instead, John Druitt stood before her, tray in hand, a cup of fresh berries, a crock of French Onion soup, and a bottle of merlot beckoning. In the corner was a small, white vase filled with white and yellow flowers. Pansies, Magnus thought, the flowers of remembrance. A hint of a smile crossed her face.

Druitt set the tray down on an open spot on the desk and followed Helen's gaze to the vase. "The flowers were my idea," he explained. "Bad one?" he asked sheepishly.

She stared at the delicate petals a moment longer, and then drew her eyes back up to John and smiled. "Of course not. They're lovely. Thank you."

John nodded and sat down. This was becoming a ritual between them, she noted, him bringing her dinner when she missed it then staying for a glass of wine or brandy and some late night conversation. Occasionally Tesla or Will joined them. At first it had felt awkward. Being so physically close to John after she had worked decades to distance herself from him was disconcerting, for many reasons. The most unexpected of which was that she found his company immensely enjoyable and missed him on those occasions when he didn't come.

A month ago, Magnus had finally accepted that he was cured. Tesla had been right. He'd rid John of his demon. She was working up the courage to rid herself of her own by telling Druitt the truth, that it had been her research that had saved him and that she had withheld the cure from him out of a petty need for vengeance. But it was hard to do, admitting she'd been hurt so badly, had once been so vulnerable that a century later she still felt the need to lash out. She'd tell him, though, eventually. Her sense of justice demanded it. She just hadn't found the right moment.

"You know, it's amazing you've lived this long, Helen. For a doctor, your eating habits are appalling," John teased, opening the wine and watching her work. On cue, she shook her head, stopped typing, and turned to her supper. As she ate and drank, John briefed her on his work with Kate Freelander, which was going quite well. For the time being, Magnus had assigned him to be Kate's partner, assisting with affairs in Hollow Earth and other missions. For the long term? She had other ideas. He had nowhere to go really, but staying here wasn't an option. He was just too…close, nearby at every turn. She still did a double take when she saw him in the hallway. Mostly because it seemed so out of place, but partly because his presence pulled at her, and that, more than anything, frightened Magnus. She was wrong to have withheld the cure from him, but she had been correct about one thing: They weren't meant to be together, not as lovers anyway, and having him so near was beginning to weigh on her, a slippery slope that she knew in her gut would only end badly.

"John," she started, waiting for him to finish and pushing back her tray. "We need to talk about what happens next."

"Well, I thought perhaps we could relax, finish the rest of this wine, converse for awhile, and then retire for the evening. Did you have something else in mind?"

Magnus smiled. "Your future. We need to talk about what happens next for you."

"Ah," Druitt said, nodding. "I was wondering when we would get to that."

"I have some thoughts I'd like to share, if you'd like to hear them?"

"Of course, but let's move to the couch, shall we? I have a feeling I may need to be comfortable for this."

Magnus nodded in agreement. If Tesla or Will joined them, they always went to the sitting area. Otherwise, she ate her dinner at her desk while he sat safely on the opposite side. It was amusing, and rather obvious, she thought, her need to keep him physically at bay.

She rounded the corner and sat down on the velvet sofa. He poured another glass of wine into her stem-less cup. He'd taken to wearing jeans, black boots, and dress shirts that were tucked in and belted, accentuating every muscle of his lean torso. His hair was growing in as well, a ruffled, dark brown. And he smelled of sandalwood and musk. She wished he'd go back to wearing his dark, brooding colors. It was easier to see him as Jack rather than John then. But Jack was gone, she reminded herself. All that was left was John, and what to do with him now was the question at hand.

"I've been thinking," she started. She saw him smile into his glass at that. "You do wonderful work with the Sanctuary. I'd like you to continue."

His eyes lit up.

"But not here," she added hurriedly. "There are a dozen Sanctuary houses you could be based out of. We have special needs right now in Eastern Europe particularly and…"

Druitt laughed.

"What?"

"Eastern Europe? If you had a Sanctuary in Antarctica, I assume you would have chosen that. Helen, if you want me to leave, just say so."

She blushed.

"I don't want you to leave, John. It's not that…"

"Well you certainly don't want me to stay," he laughed again.

"No, you misunderstand…." She found herself fumbling for words. Truth was, he understood perfectly.

She sighed. "John, we aren't good together. As I said before, we've tried to make it work…It doesn't."

"I thought we were talking about my work at the Sanctuary, not our past relationship," he said evenly.

Magnus shook her head. "There's no way we can separate the two. You know that."

"Perhaps. However, I was hoping we were becoming…friends ," he offered quietly.

She nodded. "We are. I think we are. Our evening conversations have been wonderful, honestly they have. I feel as though this past month we've…" She hesitated. What did she feel?

"Rediscovered one another?"

She swallowed. "Something like that, yes."

Druitt leaned forward, his glass between both hands. "Then why send me away?"

Why indeed? Because she was growing used to his company? Because she was starting to miss him when he was gone? Because he made her smile like when they were young, before their world changed? Because she saw Ashley in his eyes?

"Because…." She looked down into her almost empty wine glass, searching for an answer in the small bit of liquid that remained but seeing only her reflection. She felt him scoot toward her, his thigh touching hers. He stretched out a hand and laid it atop of hers. She turned to look at him.

"The last thing I want to do is to cause you more pain, Helen. I know how much I've hurt you. I'm not stupid or blind."

Her heart sped up.

"But I'd be lying to you if I didn't admit how painful it is for me to be…whole again and have you so close yet wanting me so far away."

She started to speak, to explain herself, but he stopped her, lifting a hand tentatively to her hair and then stroking it lightly. "I love you, Helen. You know that. Whether you want to believe it's the young girl I once knew that I'm in love with rather than the woman you've become, I can't stop you. All I know is that my feelings for you remain…unabated. But if you want me to go, if that's what makes you happy, I'll go."

He continued to stroke her hair lightly, his blue eyes boring down on hers. Helen's breath caught, and her heart quickened. She had no idea what she wanted. No, that wasn't true, she _did_ know. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him to go. But mostly she wanted to rid herself of the constant conflict he caused her.

Druitt reached over and took Magnus' wine glass, set it down on the table in front of them, then lifted his hand to her face and lightly traced a finger down her cheek.

"Would you at least permit me a kiss goodbye?"

"John…" she warned him.

He was hovering perilously close to her, his breath brushing against her lips. The smell of wine and his cologne was making her dizzy. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the flames licking the wooden logs in the fireplace, hear them crackling. Behind her the mantle clock ticked.

She'd wanted to say "no," but all that came out again was his name.

He leaned into her and brushed her lips. She started to pull back, but he squeezed her hand, asking her to stay. She gave in to his silent request, as curious as he to taste her lover once more. He slid his hands to her waist and held her there lightly, encouraging her not to flee but neither holding her prisoner. After a moment he opened his mouth tentatively, wordlessly urging her forward. She opened hers in return, feeling control slipping away, her emotions overriding her better judgment. A moment later his tongue reached for hers, tracing the roof of her mouth, and she was lost. She lifted her hands to his neck, folding herself within him, acknowledging what she knew was wrong yet inevitable. She returned his kiss, her mouth opening wide for him, their tongues tangling in a dance more than a century old between them.

His grip on her waist tightened, and he eased her back onto the sofa, laying her down gently, her long legs stretched out before him. He continued to kiss her and her him, mouths moving from lips, to necks, to face, and back again. Her hands threaded his hair, sliding up his back then down to his hips, tracing familiar lines. She was disappearing in his caresses, her body coming alive under his, her mind shutting off everything but sensation. If she didn't stop now, she never would.

Just as she thought it, John's hand slid under her dress, skimming lightly over her stocking-covered leg and inching up her outer thigh, sliding behind her to grab a hold of her bottom and squeeze. She let out a muffled cry, and he moaned at the sound of it, moving his lips to her neck working his way down to the top of her dress, nuzzling his face in her cleavage.

His mouth bit at her breasts through her clothing while his hand squeezed and stroked her leg. Helen's hands held his head to her chest, massaging his hair and scalp. Her eyes were closed, and her head was thrown back in growing pleasure. Suddenly he jerked his hand out from under her clothes, lifted himself up, and reached behind Helen to draw her zipper down. When he'd finished, he sat up and looked at her, their eyes meeting.

"John…"

It was the only word she could seem to say, all other words failing her. But when she spoke it again this time, the realization struck her that it _was_ John. Not Jack. Not the killer he'd become, but the lover she'd once known. The man she'd loved, promised to marry, and raise a family with was straddling her, waiting for permission to love her, giving her the choice to start or to stop.

They hovered there, between past and future, for only a moment.

"Yes," Helen finally said, and John bowed his head, slipping the dark navy dress off her shoulders and exposing a purple lace bra that barely contained her ample breasts. He pulled the strap off one shoulder then the other, undid the clasp in front, and then sucked in a breath at the sight of her. The hungry look in his eyes made Helen's heart pound in her chest and her muscles clench below.

He dove at her with the ferocity of an animal, starving and untamed. With his mouth he worked her nipples, sucking and biting her, leaving marks up and down her pale skin that made her cry out in pleasure. His other hand snaked up her dress and ripped at her stockings, making a gap large enough for him to slide his hand through and onto her warm, wet center. She gasped as he thrust two fingers inside her, sliding in and out, his thumb working her tender nub, her breaths coming in quick, short pants. She yanked his head up from her breast and thrust her tongue into his mouth, mimicking his movements below. He was working her into a frenzy, sliding his fingers in and out of her, rubbing her until she thought she'd explode from his touch, her climax building.

Abruptly he pulled his hand out of her and tore his lips away from hers, leaving her mouth bruised and swollen. His eyes went dark, the bulge in his jeans straining against the denim. She reached out to slide her hands over his erection, but he pulled away, startling her.

"What do you want, Helen?" he asked, towering over her, his knees straddling her hips.

She reached again for him, and he moved back, smiling.

"Tell me what you want, love."

Her chest was heaving. She could feel the slick wetness moistening her thighs.

"Tell me, Helen. Say it."

She swallowed hard, reaching her hands to his belt, looping her fingers inside the top of his pants and pulling him forward.

"You. Inside of me."

He grinned. "Are you sure?

"Yes."

"Really? Then beg me," he demanded.

"What?" she asked confused.

He smiled, tracing his wet hand over her fingers, prying her neatly manicured nails gently off of his buckle, and then brushing his fingers lazily over her lips, letting her taste her own arousal.

"No games, Helen. Just the truth. Do you want me?"

She looked at him, her heart pounding, her body burning.

"Yes." There was no way, with her breasts spilling out of her bra, her body wet from arousal, her dress hiked over her hips, that she could deny it.

"Then beg me. Beg me to make love to you." He leaned forward, took one breast between his teeth and lightly bit down; causing her to start in pain. Then he licked her nipple, soothing her hard, swollen nub. She closed her eyes and reached for his belt again, undoing it blindly, her fingers trembling in the rush to feel him. He kissed her breasts, her neck, her cheek, then worked his way up to her ear, playing with the silver earring with his lips, darting his tongue in and out of her ear, nipping her earlobe.

"Beg me to love you Helen. Beg me to fuck you," he whispered.

She undid his belt, pulled down his zipper, and reached inside to find him, his erection hard and throbbing in her hands. She slid her fingers up and down his long shaft, feeling him for the first time in over a century, the moisture from his tip lubricating her hand.

"Beg me, love" he whispered again, leaning on one arm, taking the other and sliding it up and to her center again, moving his fingers in and out of her.

"Love me, John," she breathed, her hips beginning to stir in time to his fingers, her own hand mimicking the rhythm on his cock, they're bodies locked in mutual masturbation.

"What did you say, Helen? What?" he teased.

She turned to him and bit his jaw, tasting a drop of blood on her tongue and hearing him gasp. Her hand tightened around his erection, her center dripped with wetness.

"Fuck me, John. Please…."

She felt him smile his approval. He pulled up, tore open her stockings completely, and thrust himself inside of her, his hips driving into hers. She sucked in a sudden, shuddering breath. With one hand he held onto the side of the couch for balance, the other he dropped to her chest, kneading her breasts roughly as he rode her. Helen gasped for air, shifting her hips to grant him better access when John reached down and lifted her left leg over his shoulder, sliding her fully under him. The change in angle made him fill her completely, and she cried out in pleasure and pain. He drove harder in response, faster, pounding against her pubic bone, bruising her womb. He tore his hand away from her breasts and rubbed her already swollen center, making her ride higher and higher, the tension mounting, her legs trembling, her body shaking in need.

"Are you coming?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, never easing his harsh rhythm.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly.

"Am I making you come?" he demanded to know.

"Yes. God yes!" she cried out.

But before she could finish her climax, he slammed inside of her. Helen could feel his cock expand within her womb, her muscles automatically contracting around him, kneading his erection as he spilled his seed into her. He cried out in a guttural howl, his face creased in pure, sensual pleasure.

When he finished, he collapsed on top of her, his cock slowly growing smaller within her, his cheek brushing against her breast, his chest rising up and down.

"How does it feel, Helen?" he said hoarsely, still gasping for air. "To be so thoroughly fucked?"

Something in his voice, his tone startled her. She pulled herself up to look at him.

"John?"

He turned his head and gazed up at her.

"Yes, John. Not Jack. You needn't worry, darling. Although of course it's no thanks to you," he answered sharply.

"I don't…" Helen started, fear beginning to rise inside her.

"You could have saved me, but you didn't, Helen," he said his voice growing louder. He sat up, his warmth suddenly leaving her cold. "You could have extricated the demon from my soul, but you wanted to watch me suffer instead! Your heart bleeds for them all, all of them, EXCEPT-FOR-ME!" he shouted, pounding his fist against his chest. "So how does it feel, sweet, beloved, love, to be FUCKED over in return? How does it feel, my darling little whore?"

Helen blinked in shock, her mouth fell open. John's hands flew to her neck, his fingers grasping her throat. Her own hands flew up to his wrists to pull them off, but he was too strong.

"I could kill you right now, you know. Snap your neck in two. It doesn't take a demon to make a man want to do that, just betrayal. The loss of something he holds dear…." He was crying, tears streaming down his face.

"You don't understand," she choked out, her mind reeling. His tears fell onto her cheeks in small, delicate splashes. She could taste the salt on her tongue. "I wanted to tell you!"

He laughed, shaking his head, his hands still ringing her neck tightly. "Do you want to know what's ironic, Helen? Hmm? You were right. You were right all along!" He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "We weren't meant to be together, so LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted, then disappeared, making her jump in fright.

Helen lay on the couch trembling, her dress pooled around her waist, warm liquid sliding down her thighs, the smell of John's cologne clinging to her skin, and the tightness of his fingers still grasping at her neck.

_(to be continued)_


	4. Chapter 4: Of Hope

**The Willful Slaughter of Hope  
><strong>_Chapter 4: Of Hope  
><em>Copyright 2011, NoCleverSig

_Author's Note: The flashbacks in this chapter are from an earlier story I wrote called "The Picnic" about Helen and John's first time together. If you're a Helen and John fan, I recommend it to you. Also, the more this story went on, the more it became about Tesla. Sorry, you know how he is. ;)_

The pounding on Nikola Tesla's door startled him out of his meditation over Praxian use of thermodynamic energy to power the city's central water supply. It also made him splash his Chablis onto his notes, neither of which was acceptable. If the annoying little leprechaun or Bigfoot were on his doorstep again at this hour when it was universally understood that he was to be given peace, quiet, and alcohol while he reviewed the day's work, he'd have to talk to Helen.

When Tesla opened the door, neither Will Zimmerman nor the Big Guy greeted him. Instead, Helen Magnus stood there looking disheveled, unhinged, and more than a little angry. For the first time in a long time, Tesla was genuinely concerned.

"What the HELL did you tell John!" she demanded, storming into his bedroom and slamming the door shut before he could extend an invitation.

"Druitt?" He asked perplexed.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Nikola. Don't play stupid!"

Tesla frowned. "I don't do stupid, Helen, you know that. I have no idea what you're talking about."

She walked up to him and looked down, standing an inch or two higher than he in her stiletto heels, her nostrils flaring. Her nose was red as were her eyes. Had she been crying?

"His treatment. The cure. The fact that I developed it but didn't administer it. How did he find out?"

Nikola's eyebrows shot up. "I haven't a clue. I didn't tell him." He paused and looked at Magnus. Her dress was slightly wrinkled, her hair mussed.

"What happened?" he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets, his worry steadily mounting.

She walked away and started pacing. She had one hand on her hip, the other she ran through her hair, unconsciously tidying it.

"He knew from the beginning. I think he knew from the moment he came here or close to it in any event." She said almost to herself, avoiding his question.

Tesla shook his head. "That's impossible, Helen. I didn't say a thing, I swear," he added when she shot him a less than believing look. "I was leaving that up to you."

She stopped.

"Helen, what happened?" he asked again, edging toward her. The tension was wafting off of her in waves. "Where's John?"

Magnus dropped her hands to her sides, her shoulders slumping. "I have no idea, Nikola" she replied. "We were…talking. Everything was fine, good even, and then..."

Tesla was near her now. He could hear the strain in her voice; see the smudges of mascara under her eyes. She smelled like perfume, sweat, and… Realization finally dawned. _Like moths to a flame,_ he thought angrily.

"And then what? He seduced you and took off to parts unknown?" he asked sarcastically.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"Oh, forget the try," he pronounced. "He succeeded." It felt as though the wind had just been knocked out of him.

"Something like that," Magnus mumbled, turning away from the disgusted look on Nikola's face.

Tesla walked up to her and grasped her firmly by the shoulders. "Helen, look at me."

She tried to avoid his gaze but couldn't and finally gave in. They locked eyes for a moment, and Tesla's face fell.

"He did more than just seduce you," he said quietly, his thumbs kneading her shoulders automatically. "And here I thought Jack the Ripper was the cruel one."

She swallowed, took a deep breath, and worked hard to fight back what he was certain were tears.

"He was angry. Rightfully so."

"Rightfully so? _Rightfully?_ Helen!" Tesla shook his head, nearly spitting out the words. "The man has maimed and murdered hundreds in his lifetime. Any_ rights _John Druitt had to justice went out the window with Whitechapel!"

"It wasn't him!"

"Who killed those women or humiliated you tonight?" his eyes skimmed up and down her body, now more than certain of what had transpired between them now. "Either way, you deserve more than this! You always have."

It was as close to honesty as he'd ever gotten with her. He'd toyed, teased, and played with it over the century, but he'd never told her point blank how he felt. In fact, he'd studiously avoided it. Banter was always better, easier between them. Feelings, as was evidenced before him now, only led to heartache, particularly when one was certain the depth of those feelings was not returned.

She let the moment pass as he expected she would.

"I have to find him, Nikola."

He threw his hands up in the air and scoffed out loud. "In God's name why would you want to do that?"

"Because," she paused, searching for the right words and failing to find any, seemingly as uncertain of her reasons as he was. Suddenly she gathered herself, stood up straight, and breathed in deep, settling on the answer.

"Forgiveness, Nikola. This has to end. We may very well be past the point of loving one another, but if we can't abide forgiveness after more than a century of living, what do we have left?"

No tears fell as she said it. Magnus' eyes were clear and bright. _Forgiveness?_ How she had arrived at that conclusion after what Tesla suspected had occurred between John and her was beyond him. Love, passion, envy, hate? Those were emotions he understood, but forgiveness?

He took a moment to think about it, and then nodded. "Tell me what I can do."

* * *

><p>Springtime at the University Parks in Oxford was glorious. The cherries, crab apples, hawthorn, and rowan trees were in full bloom. Bluebells scattered the ground amidst the tall grasses that grew in The Ley. The strong, fresh scent of balsam poplars near the pond permeated the meadows.<p>

John Druitt sat, back against a tree, along the River Cherwell. A six pack of Guinness rested on his left side, a pile of flat stones on his right. It was a Saturday…or a Sunday…he couldn't recall which. The day was warm and sunny. For one, if not all, of those reasons, the Parks were full of people. The Cherwell Boathouse had opened early for the season, and couples and families punted along the river in droves.

Druitt did his best to hit them all as he picked up stones from the pile and skipped them across the water, tilting back another beer and letting the warm sweat drip from his brow. He'd made a game of it: one point for hitting a punt with friends, two for couples, and top marks for boats with happy families with wee tots.

_Bloody fuck them all._

He'd been in a permanent alcoholic haze for weeks, spending his days grabbing a bit of food and a lot of beer before parking himself by the river. Rain or shine, it didn't matter. By day he ate, mostly drank, and stared at the water. By night, if he was sober enough to remember, he'd teleport back to his bed. The next morning he started the routine all over again.

Occasionally, if he became overzealous with his rock chucking or fell asleep past park hours, he was shuffled off by the local bobby. He'd been marked as a new, permanent transient by the Oxford Police. One of the local cops, an affable young chap named Shaun, took bets on how many points he'd rack up during the day. As long as he hit the boats and not the people and no one complained, Shaun didn't mind. The other officers weren't so open-minded. For that reason John Druitt picked a different tree by a different part of the River every morning to sit and get pissed at. Today he was down by The Leys, far away from the walking path and out of sight of the oak groves where most people sought shade. If he'd realized earlier where he was heading, he would have stopped himself. But he was too hung over and too tired to notice until he'd already settled himself, gathered his daily pile of acceptable skipping stones, opened his first bottle of draught, and finally took a good look around.

Most couples selected the pond or outside the cricket fields for their picnics, but he had suggested The Leys to Helen, a secluded area where native grasses were allowed to flourish and seed.

_Damn. Bloody fucking damn!_

If it wasn't _the spot_! The very same! A century had passed, and it hadn't changed at all surely just to spite him! He would have laughed at his misfortune if he could have gotten past the heavy ache in his chest. He shut his eyes tight, trying to keep the images, sounds, and sensations out of his head, but it was too late (or too early, depending upon how one viewed it), and he was far too sober.

"_I can't think of a finer day for a picnic, John. Can you?" Helen had said._

_He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "No, my love. I cannot."_

They had planned their day together the week before. The spring exams had ended, the clouds had parted, and the air had grown warm and bright.

"_Helen, I want…I need…Will you permit me to…"_

_She stopped him mid-sentence, gently holding the sides of his face then easing her fingers down to her bodice, unbuttoning the first button of the light pink top that she wore. _

"_Yes, John," she said as he sat up, transfixed, watching her slowly undress before him. _

He squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to will the images away, but they wouldn't yield. Like ghostly apparitions, they played over and over in his head.

"You're either the most pathetic man I've ever known or a romantic of the highest nature. I can't decide which."

The high, irritating, noise came out of nowhere. John Druitt opened his eyes and spun around at the sound of the mordant, male voice.

"Tesla?"

"Surprised?" Nikola grinned, exaggerating his old Serbian accent. He saddled up to Druitt and sat down, brushing the grass off his slacks as he did so and unbuttoning his shirt sleeves while John simply stared.

"Want to know how I found you?" Tesla prompted, rolling up one white sleeve and then the other. He stretched his grey trousered legs out before him, crossed his ankles, and leaned back on his arms, the river breeze lifting a lock of his fine, brown hair.

"Should I care?" Druitt asked flatly, taking another slug of beer.

Nikolas shrugged. "If it were me, I'd be curious."

"Of course you would," Druitt consented.

"I thought to myself," Tesla went on, ignoring John's obvious lack of interest. "Genius? If you were a tortured, idiotic soul like John Druitt who had recently cast aside, like a pile of shit I must add, the one person in his life who truly gave a damn about him, where would _you_ go?"

He could see the steam emanating off of John like mist on the water.

"And your conclusion?" Druitt asked evenly, taking another gulp to mask his irritation.

"To the one place that had made me happy."

John paused at that and looked at Tesla. "Helen told you about this place?" He was surprised. She was by no means a prude, but she wasn't immodest.

"No," Tesla answered easing his mind. The scientist straightened a bit and looked around. "But I can surmise. After all, it is where all the cool kids went to make out back in the day," he grinned at John. Druitt looked away, grabbing a bit of cheese and bread from his sack.

"By the way, since when did you start drinking beer? I always thought of you as a Scotch man. May I have one?"

"No."

"Fine. You were always boorish. I shouldn't expect it to change now."

John took a bite of his breakfast, tilted the bottle back, and finished. He felt along the grass for his bottle opener and grabbed another.

"She did tell me; however, about your masterful plan to accompany Adam on his little trip down memory lane back to merry, old England. You wanted to come here, to Oxford, before we ingested the Source Blood, get married, have kids, yadda, yadda, yadda. Good going there, Johnny. Another stellar maneuver on your part."

Druitt opened the bottle, tossed the cap in the water, and took a long drag of his dark brew. They sat in silence for a time. Druitt's back was against the yew tree, Nikola by his side. They gazed out over the slow moving river.

"So," John finally spoke up. "You came all this way to berate me? How infinitely kind of you. But I'll tell you old boy, I do a find job of berating myself. Daily."

"Not fine enough," Tesla replied with a harsh edge to his voice that Druitt seldom heard.

"I'm here because she sent me," Nikola went on, answering the unspoken question in Druitt's words. The edge in Tesla's tone was still there but muted. "I spent three weeks looking for you in ever hovel in Shang Hai before I stopped and realized I was no longer hunting for Jack I was hunting for John. And though it isn't the Ritz," he continued, eyeing the grass swaying along the river. "It is a step up from your previous dive."

The silence descended again. Tesla sat up, mimicking John's posture.

"Why did she send you?" John finally asked. He'd drawn his legs up and rested his arms on his knees, holding his Guinness loosely between his hands.

"Because she wants you to come home."

Druitt snickered and took a gulp of beer. "Home? So she can…what? Betray me again?"

In a flash Nikola was on top of Druitt, his clawed, vampire hands wrapped around his neck, pinning him against the tree, the ground a good foot from the balls of John's feet. Tesla's eyes were pitch black, and his voice growled through his fangs.

"Don't _even_ go there with me, John! After everything you've done? Everything you put her through?" Tesla's fingers tightened around Druitt's throat. "You have the audacity to talk about betrayal?"

Tesla's grip eased enough for Druitt to choke out a word.

"Why?" he whispered.

Nikola's claws and fangs retracted, his eyes cleared, and he let John go, unwrapping his fingers from his neck and letting Druitt's tall frame hit the ground with a thump.

"Because for some unknown, ridiculous, unfathomable reason…she forgives you."

Druitt stared at Nikola, dumbfounded.

Nikola unrolled his sleeves, buttoned them back up, and smoothed back his hair.

"Do something right for once in your life, John," he said, then turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>Tesla knocked on the Sanctuary front door, his muted grey suit freshly cleaned and pressed. The Big Guy opened it.<p>

"Where have you been?" Biggie grunted.

"Out. On a mission," Tesla replied, pushing past him and into the house with his small bag of luggage. Biggie stepped aside. "How are things at the old Ponderosa?" Nikola quipped, adjusting his cuff links and sniffing the air.

Biggie cocked his head and motioned toward the direction of Magnus' office.

"Druitt's back," he said with a slight growl to his voice.

Nikola' raised one eyebrow and looked at him. "Oh really?" he answered blithely. "When did that happen?"

The Big Guy shrugged. "A few hours ago."

"Hmmm. And how's that going?"

The Yeti snorted. "They aren't yelling."

Tesla smirked. "Not necessarily a good sign between those two. They could both just as easily be dead by now."

Biggie made a noise that might have sounded like a laugh then sniffed the air noisily.

"Nope. Not dead," he replied.

* * *

><p>Behind the closed doors of the Sanctuary office, Helen Magnus and John Druitt sat drinking tea and discussing the events that had transpired in their very long lives. With his vampire hearing, Tesla was able to make out one word repeatedly: <em>forgiveness<em>. Where that word would take them, he wasn't certain, but as was his nature, he was curious.

So, 'Sanctuary for All' wasn't an empty motto after all? He thought to himself.

Tesla smiled. _A genius and a moralist?_ He was making progress.

End

_Author's Note: I chose this ending because I wanted the reader to decide for herself how the saga of Helen and John should end. However, if you would like to see an additional story on that or have specific thoughts on what might have transpired between them, let me know. Me? I'm an eternal optimist and a romantic, so you know how I lean. ;)_


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